LITMIR.BIZ

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a grin. Or, on second thoughts, perhaps not…

      She heard her name spoken, and turned, the smile freezing on her lips as she did so.

      Because it wasn’t Marco with the key, as she’d expected.

      It was Chris. Standing there in front of her with three other men, all carrying golf bags. Looking astonished, and not altogether pleased.

      ‘Flora,’ he repeated. ‘What on earth are you doing here? How did you find me? Is something wrong?’

      ‘No, nothing.’ Or everything, she thought desperately. ‘I didn’t know you were here.’ She gave a wild, bright smile. ‘But I’m not actually staying. So, please, don’t let me interfere with your game. Do go on, and I—I’ll see you on Monday.’

      ‘Oh, we’ve finished for the day,’ Chris said. ‘Not a bad couple of rounds at all. But you haven’t met the lads. Jack—Barry—Neil, this is my fiancée, Flora Graham, who seems to be just passing through for some reason.’ And he laughed with a kind of boisterous unease.

      There was a chorus of greeting which faded into a bewildered silence, and Flora realised, horrified, that she’d actually taken a step backwards.

      ‘So nice to see you all,’ she babbled. ‘But I really must be going.’

      If I can just get outside and find the car I can wait in it. Tell Marco I can’t stay…

      She turned to flee, and cannoned straight into Marco himself. He steadied her, hands on her shoulders, halting her flight.

      ‘You are going in the wrong direction, carissima.’ He sounded amused, every word falling on her ears with total clarity. ‘The lift is over there, and we are on the first floor—in the bridal suite, no less.’ He slid his arm round her waist and pulled her close. His voice became lower, more intimate. ‘I have asked them to send up your tea, and some champagne for us, so that we can—relax before dinner. Would you like that, my sweet one?’

      The silence seemed to stretch out until doom. Except that doom would have been preferable, Flora thought. She felt as if she was watching everything from a distance—Chris looking stunned, with his mouth open and his face brick-red—his companions exchanging appalled glances and trying to edge away—and Marco, his hand resting on her hip in unquestioned possession, smiling like a fallen angel.

      At last, ‘Who are you?’ Chris burst out hoarsely. ‘And what the hell are you doing with my fiancée?’

      Marco looked in his direction for the first time, his glance icy and contemptuous. And totally unwavering. He said, ‘I am Marco Valante, signore, and I am Flora’s lover. Is there anything more you wish to ask me?’

      Flora saw Chris’s mouth move, and realised he was silently repeating the name to himself. The angry colour had faded from his face and he was suddenly as white as a sheet.

      There was tension in the air, harsh, almost tangible, filling the shaken silence.

      ‘No,’ Chris muttered at last. ‘No, there’s nothing.’ And, without looking at Flora again, he turned and stumbled away, followed by his embarrassed companions.

      ‘I think, mia bella,’ Marco said softly, ‘that your engagement is at an end.’

      ‘You know the old cliché about praying for the floor to open and swallow you?’ Flora threw a sodden tissue into the wastebin and pulled another from the box. ‘Well, it’s all true, Hes. I just wanted to disappear and never be found again.’

      ‘Yet once again the floor remained intact,’ said Hester. ‘So what did you do? Go for the sympathy vote and throw up over Chris’s shoes?’

      ‘It’s not funny.’ Flora sent her a piteous look. ‘Hes, it was the worst moment of my life, bar none.’

      Twenty-four hours had passed, and they were in Flora’s sitting room. Flora was stretched out on the sofa and Hester was standing by the window, glass of wine in hand.

      She nodded. ‘I believe you.’ She whistled. ‘Boy, when you fall off the wagon, Flo, you do it in spectacular style, I’ll grant you that. No half-measures for our girl. So what happened next? I presume Chris tried to kill him?’

      ‘No.’ Flora shook her head drearily. ‘He just stood there, looking at Marco as if he’d seen a ghost—or his worst nightmare. And then—he walked away.’

      Hester frowned. ‘You mean he didn’t even take a swing at him? I’m not pro-violence, but under the circumstances…’

      ‘Nothing,’ Flora said tonelessly. ‘And he didn’t look at me, or say one word.’

      Hester grimaced. ‘Probably didn’t trust himself.’

      ‘I can hardly blame him for that,’ Flora sighed. ‘I can’t forgive myself for the way I’ve treated him.’

      ‘Let’s talk some sense here.’ Hester walked over, refilled her glass, then resumed her station at the window. ‘I never felt that you and Chris were the couple of the year. You met and liked each other, and it—drifted from there.’

      She shrugged. ‘Maybe you’d both reached a stage where marriage seemed a good idea, and you were content to settle for just all right rather than terrific. It happens a lot, and in a lot of cases it probably works perfectly.

      ‘But not for you, Flo. That red hair of yours gives you away. You’re really an all or nothing girl, and sooner or later you’d have realised that. It’s much better that it should happen now, before the wedding, even if the endgame was a bit drastic. But you didn’t plan it that way, so stop beating yourself over the head. Ultimately it’s all for the best.

      ‘And, if it comes to that,’ she added, frowning, ‘why wasn’t he here seducing you himself? If he hadn’t been off with the lads, this Italian guy wouldn’t have been able to get to first base with you.’

      ‘We weren’t joined at the wrist,’ Flora objected.

      ‘Or anywhere else, I gather,’ Hester said drily.

      She paused. ‘Have you heard from Chris since it happened?’

      ‘No,’ Flora said bitterly. ‘But I’ve had calls from practically all our families and friends. Clearly Chris recovered enough to get on the phone from the hotel and spread the bad word about me. By the time I got back here the answer-machine was practically bursting into flames. My mother—his mother—even my bloody stepsister banging on about little Harry’s disappointment over the loss of his pageboy role.’

      ‘Nightmare stuff,’ said Hes. ‘And universal condemnation, I suppose?’

      Flora shrugged. ‘My mother’s disowned me completely. Says I’ve brought disgrace on the entire family and she’ll never be able to hold her head up at the bridge club again. And, according to Chris’s mother, in more right-thinking times I’d have been whipped at the cart’s tail.’

      ‘Prior to being stoned to death, I suppose,’ Hester said acidly. ‘Charming woman. Pity there isn’t a public hangman any more. She’d have been ideal. Well, at least you’ve escaped having her as a mother-in-law. That’s one bright spot amid the encircling gloom.’

      She paused, then said carefully, ‘And what about your Signor Valante? Has he been in touch since yesterday?’

      ‘He drove me back here. I don’t think either of us said a word. He brought in my bag and said he regretted the embarrassment he had caused me. And went.’ Flora made a brave attempt at a smile. ‘End of story.’

      ‘Presumably because he’s hideously embarrassed himself.’ Hester sighed. ‘After all, it was the most appalling coincidence to choose that hotel out of all the others you could have gone to.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘Whose decision was that, by the way?’

      ‘It was Marco’s suggestion, but he didn’t pressure me into it. He said we could take pot luck somewhere else,

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